The Poetry Marathon

She Danced

I watched as he broke her heart,

Stood her up,  tore her apart.

He did it like it was a skillful art.

He told her she was his breath and life,

he wanted her to be his wife,

He threw away those words like a guilty knife.

If she had only known at the start,

she would have armed herself for the fight.

But, I watched her rise,  watched her wounds heal,

She bore the pain,  and it was surreal

to see her gather what he tried to steal.

I watched her eyes grow wise and deep,

there were no cries of wounded pique.

not once did she let him see her weep.

I saw a strength so catching and real,

I knew there was somewhere she carried this deep.

Then it was by pure chance,

I saw her dance.

The pain ebbed out in glorious beauty,

every note doing its duty,

The loss, the tears, the guilt and the shame,

Out of each move the flowing came,

I saw her divine a patterned advance,

when I saw her dance.

 

 

 

Influencer

Sister

Strong, Enduring

Hurting, Helping, Hiding

Love, Envy, You, Pride, Hope

Angry, Fighting, Wishing

Mysterious, Indomitable

Woman

Hour 1 Janice

What I remember most about her is
The smell of coffee crawling through our house,
Like fog, the first thing every morning; this,
And the burping percolator, of course.

#1 ~ Heart On Hold

Broken heart
tears now fall.
I do not under
stand at all.

Why the pain
am I alone?
No more joy
within my home.

I’m alone
where are you?
What am I
supposed to do?

Yes, heaven has
called your name.
How can I
ever be the same?

Oh, when my name
is called we’ll be.
Rejoined as one
for eternity.

1. Spell To Name Your Muse

Sweet smoke from the burner, handcrafted incense high.

Roses tumble in the air you are rising through,
and saints and lost things: keys earrings brilliant ideas

close your eyes rearrange your senses follow smoke

until her name appears spelled in stars or honey

or hummed by passing weeds or singing
from a new tattoo on your palm.

Goddess From Heaven

i. Oh Little Heaven

Oh Little Heaven, Here’s the message

We found a land of love, midst the worn down dystopian desert.

The Land of Hardworking men, The Land of loyal people

No wonder, it’s the land of the saline princess Lavaana in her teen.

The name must be on history, for being an angel in deeds and words

Seeking peace and hating greed, must be a goddess.

Birds chirping in agreement to her laughs,

Winds yearning to caress her fairy brown hair, hip long.

 

Oh Little Heaven, sometimes she joins the reapers in harvest,

More pretty on farmers cloths looking prettier, the charm still on.

 

Oh Little Heaven, Oh Little heaven we’re enlightened to deliver the message

The tiny angels flew up the sky, singing.

H.1 – MAD DONNA

She’s all hair and brains selling

hunger to sweet young minds

 

Teasing, tempting hot young

bodies, wet and thirsty on the

dance floor.

 

Notes pounding through her

through them, a rhythm stretching

between lips, syncing.

 

Stretched and snipped, holding

youth in a jar, pointing her chest

out into the stars.

Bury It (Brandy Goodman Poem #1)

Bury It (Brandy Goodman Poem #1)

Buried beneath the Hate

Lies the root of it all

All the Hurt and Pain

It’s where the tears fall

The Hurt is just too much,

The Pain sharp as a knife

Bury it, bury it all

Hate and anger become life

Turn from Insecurity

Hide away from Guilt

None of it can get you

Behind the wall you’ve built

Dig a little deeper

Just a bit further down

Hide it all away

Before it makes you drown

Build up the Anger

Feed fire to the Hate

Bury those week emotions

Before it’s too late

Loving the ghost. (1/2 Marathon, Hour One)

Loving the ghost.

Always.

With me.

Never here

But in my blood, through my bones (when they creak and when they cry).

There is no moment without you. I cannot reach you.

Never have I wanted to feel something on my skin as much as yours.

I am grateful. Your spirit is not sufficient.

Your voice haunts me.

(You used to sing to me everyday . . .)

Your love passes through me. Like a dream.

I cannot love like this.

Never here

With me.

Always.

Selene (1st Hour 2020)

Selene, the first of her name

The first to be blamed

to go down in history in flames

The men alter her story

when they falter in their own glory

Like many, they paint this Goddess

with Godless gossip

and tell the tales of her legacy

to define her life as heresy

Selene, the first to be gaslit

but a society that was male dominant

where Gods grant you desires

all the while setting them on fire

For her love for a mortal was set ablaze

By the very same who would scorch her name

Zeus set upon her the love of her life

And gave me him a choice on how he should die

The all-knowing knew what would transpire

As her lover chose to sleep forever by the pyre

Selene, the first of her name

forever bounded to her immortal shame

by Gods and men who marked her with the blame

because of their jealousies and covetousness

they tell her tale to be the first succubus